


Wolves Who Stare at Goats

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 02:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A day at the fair with werewolves, goats, and way too many funnel cakes. 100% fluff, literal and otherwise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wolves Who Stare at Goats

**Author's Note:**

> For varlandgear, prompt: ”teen wolf kids go to the fair.”

"Food next," Scott is saying, walking backwards into the sheep tent. "Or rabbits? Food or rabbits, Stiles?" 

"Rabbits," Stiles says, not looking up from his phone. He's in the midst of a texting war with Derek No-Show Hale, best summed up as:

Stiles: _why aren't you at the fair?_  
Derek: _because I hate fun and also all of you._

If Stiles were willing to go so far as to call Derek his boyfriend -- which, for the record, he's not, particularly not at the moment -- he would absolutely call Derek the worst boyfriend ever. Not that Stiles was expecting them to play cutesy stuffed animal carnival games and hold hands, or anything, but _showing up_ shouldn't be this hard. 

"Rabbits, then food," Scott agrees. "I -- what? What's going on?"

That gets Stiles' attention. Scott is staring at Lydia and Jackson, who are standing in the entrance to the sheep tent, staring right back at him with creepily identical smirks. 

Scott jerks a hand up to his face, which, as far as Stiles can tell, looks perfectly human. 

"No, it's fine, you're good," Stiles says. "I don't know what -- oh. _Oh_." 

The sheep are gone. Not _gone_ gone, but as far away from Scott as they can possibly get; every last one of them has bailed to the furthest possible corner of its pen, creating a big sheep-free bubble around Scott. 

Stiles and Scott have been going to the fair together for as long as Stiles can remember. He's so used to the routine that he all but forgot about the big growly change in Scott's lifestyle since then, and obviously, so did Scott; neither of them paused for a second before heading for the animal tents. 

"What?" Scott says, starting to look alarmed. "What is it?"

Stiles takes a step back, lifts his phone, and clicks a picture of Scott's bewildered face and the dozens of sheep going _nope nope nope_ all around him. 

Derek's reply to the picture is almost instantaneous: _could you idiots be attracting any more attention to yourselves?_

"Fair point," Stiles says out loud, and then, louder: "It's nothing, let's go," as he grabs Scott's arm. "Let's get food, you're hungry, I'm hungry, I'll buy you a corn dog."

"Food?" Scott lets Stiles lead him out of the sheep tent, still oblivious. If Stiles plays this right, maybe they can speed through the fair and get out before Scott remembers that most of the animal kingdom has issues with him now. "What about rabbits?" 

"Yeah, I'm not sure rabbits are such a good idea, dude," Stiles says, texting Derek back: _sheep, seriously? this is too cliche to be funny._ "Maybe we should just skip the rabbits this year. And every other year from now on." Okay, so much for being subtle. 

Scott gives Stiles a look that's confused bordering on worried. "But you love the rabbits."

"Maybe it'll be fine," Lydia says doubtfully. 

"This is a terrible idea, and I told you so," Stiles says. "I'm just going to go ahead and say that now. Don't worry, I'll say it again later." 

*

The next picture Stiles sends to Derek is of Scott looking incredibly dismayed, big sad eyes in full effect, as an entire row of tiny, adorable rabbits watch him with extreme vigilance. 

"They probably think you're going to eat them," Jackson says, unhelpfully.

"I'm not going to eat them," Scott protests, leaning down to peer into the crate of a particularly fluffy rabbit. "I've never eaten a rabbit. I don't think." He shoots Stiles a worried look.

"I'm sure you've never eaten a rabbit, not even that one time, and I don't think they'd know if you had, anyway." Not the most reassuring speech Stiles has ever given, granted. "They're probably just freaked out by all the..." He waves a hand. "Noise. People. If I were a rabbit _I'd_ be freaked out right now. Actually--"

"Nah, they just hate Scott," Jackson says, like they don't hate him every bit as much. He leans down to stare at the fluffiest rabbit, too. The rabbit hunkers down, radiating a distinct sense of FML. Stiles takes pity on it and steps between the big bad wolves and the tiny frightened rabbit, shooing them away with both hands. 

"Out," he says. "Out, out, this is just sad, get out. We're getting food. Actual people food. Go." 

"I don't like the fair anymore," Scott mutters, verging on a particular variety of wounded pout not seen since _I never liked Santa anyway_. 

Stiles slings an arm around his shoulders. "Yeah, you do. You love the fair, don't lie. Come on, I'll buy you a funnel cake and we'll let some goats chew on your jacket. Goats don't care, it'll be fine." He hopes. It seems unlikely, honestly, but why not goats? He's never seen a goat give a crap about anything. All they care about is chewing on stuff. If he makes sure every werewolf in the room has something for a goat to chew on, maybe it'll be fine. It's worth a shot. 

His phone buzzes in his hand:  _whose stupid idea?_

 _whose do you think_ , he sends back. 

 _I ate one of those last night,_ Derek replies. Gross. Also blatantly untrue, unless itty-bitty specialty breeds are now roaming the woods.

"Fine," Scott says, still sulking. "But if goats hate me now, we're out of here."

"Sure, sure, that's fair," Stiles says, fingers crossed.

*

The third and last picture Stiles sends Derek from the fair is of Scott crouched down next to a pygmy goat, looking absolutely stoked as it chews on his hair.

Jackson is surreptitiously feeding the goats cup after cup of overpriced goat chow, looking secretly pleased in a way Stiles almost doesn't have it in him to mock. Almost. 

The second he opens his mouth, Lydia is leaning into his line of sight, glaring daggers. 

"I will end you," she says sweetly, and stabs a finger at Scott. "Go deal with that, before he lets that goat eat everything he's wearing."

"Hey, if it makes him happy," Stiles says. "Wait, is that--?"

Derek is just inside the tent, locked in a staring contest with a goat. When did Derek show up? Why is he trying to intimidate a goat? One of those questions Stiles asks himself on a daily basis; the other is definitely new. 

"Hey," Stiles calls out, making his way over. Derek frowns at him, then at the goat. "I didn't think you were coming, it sounded like--" He stops, eyeing Derek. "You only came to check on Scott, didn't you?" 

Derek looks shiftier than usual. His new goat friend ditches him in favor of trying to gnaw on Stiles' hoodie -- unsuccessfully, because Stiles is not Scott and doesn't need personal validation from goats. 

"You totally did, you took one look at his emo face and came running over to make sure he didn't wolf out on any livestock." Stiles waves an arm in Scott's general direction. "Crisis averted. Unimpressed goats are unimpressed."

"I told you the fair was a bad idea," Derek mutters. His impression of Scott's sulky _I hate the fair now_ is so dead on that it takes Stiles a moment to connect the dots, distracted as he is by unexpected hilarity. 

"Oh my god," he says as it dawns on him. "This is why you hate the fair, isn't it? Were some bunnies mean to you when you were a kid? Do you have bunny trauma?"

Derek looks vaguely homicidal now, but he's directing his glare at the goat again, so Stiles isn't too worried. 

"Do you want me to buy you some goat chow?" There, now the glare is aimed squarely at him. "Or an elephant ear? Worked for Scott."

"Scott," Derek says, sounding almost pained. "Is lower on the food chain than a goat."

They turn to watch Scott get chewed on by the pygmy goat. He looks up and gives Stiles a wave, making a face when he sees who Stiles is with. 

"To be fair, so are you," Stiles says. Derek looks down and swears under his breath, yanking his sleeve away from his goat friend. "Scott, buddy, you about done here? We have ten minutes before we need to meet Allison by the cow made from butter." 

Scott gives the pygmy goat one last pat. Across the tent, Jackson feeds the last of his chow to a particularly aggressive pair of goats, yelping _hey, hey_ as they chomp at his fingers. Lydia looks like she finds it all sickeningly adorable, which, fine, it kind of is. 

Derek, meanwhile, looks like he's considering melting back into the nonexistent shadows.

"Nuh-uh, nope." Stiles grabs Derek's sleeve. "You're here now, you don't get to vanish. Besides, we have to pass the rabbits on the way out, there's no telling what Scott might do."

"Hey," Scott protests. 

 _I know what you're doing and I think it's stupid_ , says the look Derek is giving Stiles right now. Whatever, Derek is never going to get over his apparent childhood fair trauma if Stiles doesn't make him do it, Derek _loves_ trauma, he's practically a trauma hoarder. This is one that Stiles is pretty sure can be fixed, given judicious application of funnel cakes and pig races. They'll just sit downwind of the pigs, is all. 

"Fine," Derek says. 

"Okay," Stiles says, letting go of Derek's sleeve to curl his fingers around Derek's wrist, cautious. So maybe he wants a _little_ hand-holding at the fair. He's only human.

"Aren't you sweet," Lydia says, startling him. Stiles guiltily jerks his hand away from Derek's wrist, taking a step back. 

Derek rolls his eyes, sighs, and grabs Stiles' hand, lacing their fingers together. Scott makes another face. Stiles has no idea what his own face is doing, none whatsoever, but it must be pretty good, because Lydia takes a picture with her phone before leading Jackson and Scott out of the tent. 

"Butter cow," Derek says, sounding way too amused. 

"Right," Stiles says, rallying. Derek gives his hand a small, reassuring squeeze, which is almost as strange as the hand-holding itself. "Just so you know, if you try to win me anything, I'm calling everything off. I'm drawing the line right here. We aren't going to be those people, that's what we have Scott and Allison for."

Derek just snorts, tugging on Stiles' hand. 

The goats look kind of sad to see them go. Stiles is definitely bringing the werewolves directly to the goat tent next year. Lesson learned. 

*

"--Like a cocker spaniel," Scott is telling Allison when Stiles and Derek catch up to the group. "Only way more awesome than a cocker spaniel."

"You aren't getting a goat," Stiles says. Allison laughs, smiling at him over Scott's shoulder. "I mean it, no goats, that could only end in tragedy."

"Sounds like you guys have been having fun, I'm sorry I missed it," Allison says, kissing Scott on the cheek. "Have you seen the rabbits yet?"

Scott's face falls so fast that Stiles has to hide a laugh behind his hand, even after Derek elbows him sharply in the ribs. 

"Annnnd back to the goats it is," Stiles says. Lydia and Jackson both roll their eyes, but Jackson is faking it, Stiles can tell. 

Derek heaves a sigh. Stiles gives him a crooked smile, hooking two fingers in his coat pocket and tugging. 

"Come on," he says. "I promised you goat chow and an elephant ear." 

*

"I'm never looking at another funnel cake again," Scott gripes, collapsing onto the passenger seat of Stiles' Jeep. "Why did you keep buying them?"

"Because you kept looking sad any time someone mentioned rabbits," Stiles says. He might've overcompensated a little. A _little_. "You were the one who kept eating them, dude, don't blame me." 

"I'm never looking at another goat again," Lydia says, climbing into the back seat. "Ever. If anyone here gets a goat, we're done."

"What, why," Scott says, wounded, even though Stiles is sure that was aimed at Jackson. "A goat is a great idea. It'd be too weird to get a dog, cats hate me, rabbits hate me, can't get a lizard--" Stiles doesn't ask why lizards are out, not with Jackson looking hugely uncomfortable in his rear view mirror. "What does that leave? Goats."

"Sure," Stiles says, drawing it out. "Make that argument to your mom, see what she thinks."

" _No goats_ ," Lydia says, then sighs, patting Jackson's knee. "At least until next year."

Stiles' phone buzzes in his pocket. It's a picture from Derek: a shot taken an hour or two ago, of Stiles handing out cups of goat chow. 

 _You're welcome_ , he texts back. _I know a petting zoo that's open year-round, just saying._

Derek doesn't send anything back. 

"Hey, guys," he says, tucking his phone back into his pocket. "I totally know where we're going for Derek's birthday."


End file.
